Keeper: First Ordinance, Book 2 (28 page)

"Difficult to say," Nefrigar replied. "There
are no markings anywhere." He'd even removed the padding inside to check
the bottom of the container. "The metal is standard titanium, but without
further study, it would be impossible to say where it was manufactured."

"It's obvious Marid knew nothing about it," Kaldill
pointed out. "He wouldn't have been able to produce such a spell anyway. I
feel it took more power than he ever possessed to do this."

"Yes—placing living things in stasis requires a great
deal of power and a finesse the Belancours do not have—even the best among
them," Nefrigar shook his head. "This is a puzzle I would very much
like to solve."

"It's destroying Quin," Berel said.

"You see a great deal," Nefrigar agreed. "It
troubles her. She has no past. Nothing to grasp as her heritage. It is causing
emotional pain."

"I don't give a flying fornication where she's
from," Kaldill grumbled. "She belongs to us, now."

"She's a citizen of Kondar," Berel nodded. "I
hoped it would be enough."

"One cannot help but wonder about absent parents, when
there is no information to be had," Daragar offered. "I wondered
about my mother until I went to find her."

"I'll explain that later," Kaldill whispered to
Berel with a half-smile.

* * *

Harifa Edus

Fyris II

"You can't conduct court hearings and decide on your
council if you're drunk," Rodrik snapped. "You need a council, you
know—your father's council is either dead or left behind in Fyris to die. The
Nobles here at the castle are becoming high-handed again, and that should not
be. We need laws and a Prince to enforce them. A council will help."

"I don't need a council." Amlis struggled not to
slur his words. He'd had wine with breakfast and had been drinking most of the
morning afterward. "This place runs itself."

"It doesn't—and Beatris says that the mayors of all the
small towns they left behind are now arguing over who is in charge—none want to
give up their authority and step down, although they live in the same city,
now. The Prince's intervention is needed." Rodrik shoved Amlis' feet off
the table where he'd rested them, rocking Amlis forward in his chair.

"I'll have you sent to the dungeon," Amlis snapped.

"Really? Have you checked, my Prince? You don't have a
dungeon, here. One wasn't built. I suggest you consider that when you sober
up—you may need a lockup when the mayors flex their authority and order their
sheriffs to arrest the mayor who now lives next door."

"But," Amlis sputtered.

"Look," Rodrik hissed, pulling Amlis up by the
collar and staring into his bloodshot eyes, "My father died just the same
as your mother. By their own choice. I suggest you mourn them in private and do
what a Prince should in public. Your people are waiting. They grow restless,
waiting for their Prince and his troops to intervene in the power struggle that
now threatens our city."

"Tea, Rodrik," Beatris set a tray on the table,
which now bore scratches from Amlis' boots. "We need Amlis sober, and we
need it fast. A mayor was just murdered not far from here."

* * *

Amlis blinked in the weak sunlight filtering through cloud
cover overhead. He knew, somewhere in the wine-fogged recesses of his mind,
that if he were in full sunlight, the brightness would make his headache a
hundred times worse.

Rodrik had saddled Runner for him—he'd fumbled the straps and
buckles until Rod pushed him aside and did it instead.
I need Deeds, Wolter
and the others
, he thought, before recalling that they'd stayed behind with
Quin.

Quin
.

He desperately needed her. If nothing else, she could heal his
infernal headache. She could tell him how to handle this mess with the mayors, too,
who'd suddenly thought it was imperative to stretch their authority in his
city.

His
city.

"How many troops behind us?" Amlis asked.

"We have twenty," Rodrik replied. "That's the
first useful thing you've said in three days," he added.

"Will we face a mob when we arrive?"

"I know not, my Prince."

"Send one back to the castle for additional troops,"
Amlis said. "Now."

* * *

Le-Ath Veronis

Queen Lissa's Private Journal

"There's an uprising already?"

Renée stood before my desk with the comp-vid saying just that.
Surely, Amlis and Rodrik were smart enough to know we'd monitor them. The
werewolves of Harifa Edus were a continent away, but the peace of their world
shouldn't be shattered by the petty squabbles of its newest inhabitants.

"We can go," Drake and Drew appeared in my study,
making Renée jump. "Sali says he'll help. Dad and Uncle Crane need some
exercise."

"So the Falchani want blade practice?" I lifted an
eyebrow at my Falchani twins.

"We won't break heads," Drake promised.

"Fine, just make sure the Prince knows you're on his
side, all right?"

"Not a problem," Drew shrugged.

"Take Tory with you," I added.

"Only if he promises not to go Thifilathi."

"Work that out with him. He has experience with these
people, you don't."

* * *

Harifa Edus

New Fyris

The noise of the crowd reached Amlis' ears before the edges of
it came into view. The extra twenty troops who'd arrived would certainly not be
enough to quell this uprising.

He should have never taken his hands off the pulse of the
people—he understood that, now. Even moving to a new home where there was
plenty of room and enough to eat failed to settle everything.

"Amlis, perhaps we should return to the palace and gather
the rest of your troops," Rodrik said, pulling Midnight to a stop.

"There's no need."

Tory appeared, with many behind him. Amlis drew in a
breath—those with Tory were strange indeed—with long, black hair braided down
their backs and inked tattoos showing on arms and chests.

The rest was covered in black leather pants and boots. Each
man had two blades strapped to his back, just as Tory did.

"Are these what you are?" Rodrik stuttered the
question.

"No—these are Falchani," Tory shook his head.
"Trust me, they're all more deadly than I am with their blades."

"You need horses," Amlis said.

"A horse will only hinder me," one of the Falchani
stepped forward. "I am Dragon, former Warlord of Falchan. If any wish to
impede my progress, they will regret it, I assure you. Queen Lissa says get
your house in order or Alliance troops will arrive to do it for you. You are
guests here, remember? As yet, you have done little to show appreciation to
your hosts."

Amlis swallowed with difficulty before nodding. "Lead the
way," he said. "We follow you."

* * *

Avii Castle

Quin

I woke in my bedroom, after hearing Justis shuffle about in
his room preparing to go to work. With an effort, I pushed my wings back, sat
up and allowed my feet to slide to the stone floor.

"Justis?" I called out while walking unsteadily
toward the door.

"Quin?" He was at my door and holding it open
quickly.

"I just wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming," I
held out a hand. "How did I get here?" I added.

"Daragar brought you," Justis said, his eyes going
over every inch of me to make sure I was all right.

"I'm fine," I held out a hand and ended up gripping
the doorjamb when the brief wave of dizziness hit. Justis reached out to steady
me and pull me away from my temporary prop.

"Do you want breakfast?" he asked, folding my body
against his. "I was about to fly down to eat with the guard, but I can
have it delivered here, instead."

"Can we go to the Library and eat with Gurnil and the
others?" I asked peering up at his face.

"Of course." He almost smiled at my request before
asking his next question. "Do you want help to dress?"

"Oh. Yes, I suppose." I looked down to see I was
dressed in my nightclothes. I couldn't recall this particular set and wondered
where they came from. Fingering the fabric, I determined it was silk.

"I believe Daragar thinks you look good in white,"
Justis did smile this time.

"That makes sense, now," I nodded. "I couldn't
remember these nightclothes and I didn't own anything that was white."

"You do, now. He's right, by the way. You look good in
white. What would you like to wear to breakfast?"

* * *

"Quinnie!" Berel was happy to see me; Justis carried
me into the Library after flying to the terrace outside it.

"Berel," I offered him a trembling smile and a nod.

"Please sit—breakfast—and Ordin—will arrive
shortly," Gurnil beamed at me. "How do you feel?"

"Shaky," I answered honestly. "But nothing
hurts and I feel better today than I did yesterday." I didn't want to
explain that I'd been at such an emotional low the day before I wasn't sure I'd
climb out of that chasm.

"Father says perhaps we should do the interview
together," Berel said, pulling out a chair so I could sit between him and
Justis. "He says that we can use the images I recorded in Fyris to help
convince the people, as well as pleading with them to choose their lives over a
dying planet."

"That would be good. Very good," I agreed, holding
out my hand. Berel took it and squeezed lightly. "Where is Kaldill this
morning?"

"I just had a conference with Queen Lissa," Kaldill
appeared nearby in a flash of light. "She says there was some trouble in New
Fyris, but with the assistance of a few troops, the Prince now has the
situation in hand."

I could see in Kaldill's face what the trouble was—those used
to having authority over a small population thought to expand that authority,
regardless of what others might think of it.

I also saw that Amlis had been forced to sober up quickly in
order to make an appearance before the people and assert his authority. He'd
been wallowing in depression, just as I had. Not for the same reasons,
obviously, but wallowing nonetheless.

"Sometimes those things cannot be helped, dearest. We all
feel it, from time to time." Kaldill had seen the emotions crossing my
face and had read them accurately, just as he always did. "Queen Lissa
sends her greetings, and reminds you that you are welcome on Le-Ath Veronis at
any time, for as long as you wish."

"I would love to go there again," I agreed.
"But we have to see to the people of Siriaa, first."

"I'd like more of those chocolate-covered
redberries," Justis agreed.

"We may make a world traveler out of you yet,"
Kaldill chuckled.

"Berel, I suppose we should work on what we want to say
in the interview," I said, changing the subject.

"I'll bring my tab-vid; you can sit on the terrace and
we'll work on it, with help from Father and his staff."

* * *

Harifa Edus

New Fyris

"I wish I'd had some warning that he could actually
become a dragon," Amlis brushed a hand over his face. He wanted a drink
but didn't think it was appropriate, considering the circumstances.

He and Rodrik now had more than a hundred mayors in the
council chamber, waiting for Amlis, Rodrik and their guards to appear. Many of
them had been prepared to fight the Prince.

One of the strange men accompanying Amlis had become a huge,
red dragon and roared at the seething crowd, his breath fiery and fierce when
he bellowed. Most of the mob had screamed and scattered, their plans of a coup
forgotten immediately.

Then the job at hand became rounding up the mayors—Tory and
those who came with him had no trouble sorting them from the crowd, although
many thought to hide themselves from the Prince.

Tory, the one called Salidar and one set of twin
Falchani—Drake and Drew—stayed, to make sure that the council meeting remained
peaceful and ensure that any of the guilty were punished. Dragon and his
brother, Crane, left after the crowd was subdued.

"I don't know what you were expecting—we've both seen
what Tory becomes."

"I thought that was the most frightening thing I'd ever
seen," Amlis shook his head. "Until today."

"This Queen Lissa must be powerful indeed to have such at
her command," Rodrik pointed out. "I feel it would be most unwise to
challenge her in any way."

"I had no such thoughts," Amlis replied. "And
even less, now. Shall we go and sort through what we have? I think we should
elevate those who disagreed with the rebels, making them council members, then
work out a proper punishment for the murderer and those who supported
him."

"I support that decision," Rodrik agreed.
"Shall we, my Prince? Your people await the authority of their
monarch."

* * *

Avii Castle

Quin

"These are the ulcerations, before you healed them,"
Berel showed me an image of a young woman who'd had sores covering much of her
body. She'd bathed in a stream near her home before falling ill. Berel's image
only showed arms and legs—I knew the rest of her body was covered with the
weeping abscesses, too, as I'd healed all of them.

"Yes," I nodded. He added that image to the
collection to be shown on the newsvids. Fyris had been a microcosm of all the
diseases and ailments that would visit those who elected to stay on Siriaa,
rather than moving to a safer planet.

"We have to save as many as we can," Berel sighed.
"If we must shock them into making the right decision, then so be
it."

"I worry that Sector Two will say it's all a lie
again," I said.

"They say that about everything," Berel shook his
head while continuing his search for appropriate images. "The other
Sectors expect it."

"Are there none who live there that will be
convinced?"